


All I've Ever Known

by Swordlesbiab



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Issues - freeform, M/M, also self worth issues?, the spies have some vulnerability issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordlesbiab/pseuds/Swordlesbiab
Summary: Curt's going to be stationed in London, and he'd very much appreciate it if he could crash with his boyfriend. Owen has some reservations.





	All I've Ever Known

**Author's Note:**

> This should honestly be rated G, but I feel like any fic with Cynthia in it gets that sweet sweet T for profanity.

“Well Mega,” Cynthia began, after what had felt like an interminably long pause, “You’ve managed to get yourself requested by MI6. Guess they’ve got a higher fuckup tolerance across the pond then we do here, but I’m not one to judge.” 

Curt nearly scoffed at that.

“No, of course not, you’ve never judged anyone in your life.” He interjected.

“Shut the fuck up, Mega, I didn’t ask for your shit-brained opinion. Now. MI6 will be setting you up with an apartment in the city unless you’ve got somewhere else to go, which is great, because I don’t want to spend money on you. You should get your briefing from them in a few days.” Cynthia explained, putting out her cigarette and immediately lighting a new one. Curt tried to cough discreetly, knowing how much Cynthia hated any signs of weakness in her office.

“Do I get a partner on this mission?” He asked.

“Oh, stop sucking Owen’s dick for 5 goddamn minutes, Mega. No, no you don’t. They seem to have been mislead into thinking you’re competent enough to do this alone. Any more questions? No? Good. Leave.” She dismissed, not actually giving him time to ask anything. Curt left. 

He managed to wrap up his day without letting anyone notice his unusually good mood, but it was difficult. London! He wasn’t working with Owen, but unless his partner had a mission he hadn’t heard about, he’d still be seeing plenty of him. Actually, Curt thought, skimming the folder of paperwork for the mission that had been waiting on his desk, he might as well just stay with him. He’d be in London for three months at least, and while MI6 had offered to find him a place, why bother with that when a better option was just sitting there! Curt decided to call Owen and ask the minute he got home. Asking was just a formality though, Owen missed him just as much as Curt missed Owen, he’d said so a million times. There was no way he’d say-

“No.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry Curt, but I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Owen’s voice said firmly over the phone. 

“Nobody would think anything of it, baby. We’ve been friends for years now, it’s normal.” Curt argued.

“I know that, love, that’s not why.” Owen responded.

“Then why?” Curt asked, baffled.

“I don’t...that is to say, I’d rather have my own space. I get unpleasant after too long with company around.”

“You don’t want me in your way, you mean. You don’t want me around. Is that what you were going to say?” Curt challenged, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. 

“No, it isn’t, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.” Owen snapped. “You asked a question, you have an answer. Is that all?”

“No, of course it isn’t!” Curt replied, “Every time I see you, you go on and on about how much you missed me, how much you wish I wasn’t so far away, and now that you’ve got a chance to have me, really have me with you for three months straight, you don’t want that anymore?” The unspoken “You don’t want _me_ anymore?” lingered in the silence that followed.

“Of course I do. I’m ecstatic that you’ll be here, and I promise you’ll be very tired of me by the time you go, but…” Owen trailed off, frustrated.

“But what, Owen?” Curt asked. 

“But nothing! But nothing, Curt, I gave you an answer, and I’d appreciate if you’d respect it.” Owen hissed. 

“Fine!” Curt answered. “Alright then, if that’s how it is. Goodnight, Owen.” He slammed the phone down in the receiver before Owen could reply, and sat there a moment, fuming. 

Curt knew, logically, that he was overreacting. Owen had a right to want his space. Owen was a private man, Curt knew that already. There were a million reasons why Owen might not want Curt to live with him, his brain explained, but his heart had decided which one to believe, and it wouldn’t be swayed. ‘He doesn’t want you.’ It taunted. ‘He doesn’t want you, and Cynthia doesn’t want you, and as soon as they see what you’re really like, MI6 won’t want you either. Why would anyone ever want _you_?’

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Curt muttered to himself as he got ready for bed. Tomorrow, he would be in touch with his liaison from MI6, and he’d request that they find him a place to stay on his own. Curt knew he’d tell Owen where it was, no matter how much some tiny, petty part of him wanted to keep it to himself. He’d never been any good at keeping secrets from his partner, which was a terrible thing in his line of work, especially when Owen seemed to excel at it. Curt sighed as he shut his eyes. Owen was mad at him, and Curt knew they’d both get over it, but it still stung. Curt was a light sleeper by nature, but that night more than most he found himself staring up at the ceiling, feeling too small for his bed.

Curt woke up the next morning already achey. He hissed, stretching his muscle groups one by one, as if giving them each a turn to voice their complaints. Today was really off to a great start, wasn’t it? He got to work, submitted his paperwork, went through the motions. He felt ridiculous, letting such a tiny rejection ruin his whole morning, but he was still hurt, and he thought that maybe he deserved to have one really shitty morning for it.

As if the universe were agreeing with him, that was the moment Cynthia chose to call him into her office.

“Amazingly, everything seems to be in order here,” She admitted, “But I noticed you checked off that you want them to get you a place.”

“And?” Curt asked, narrowing his eyes a bit.

“And, you limp dickrag, I assumed you’d be crashing with Carvour. Unless you just enjoy wasting government money, in which case, by all means!” She declared, throwing the file down on her desk.

“I gave Agent Carvour a call. He’d, uh, rather not share if we can avoid it.” Curt muttered. 

“Oh, okay then, that makes sense.” Cynthia said, cooling instantly, “I’ll pass this along.”

“Wait, what? What makes sense?” Curt demanded, jumping out of his seat.

“You two work so well together, I was starting to think Carvour actually _liked_ you!” Cynthia scoffed, “Ha! Can you imagine? I can’t blame him for not wanting to be stuck with your sorry ass any longer than his agency forces him to.” 

Curt felt like he’d just taken a punch to the gut. It was everything he’d been trying to reassure himself wasn’t true, thrown right back at him by somebody other than the voice in his head.

“Right. Right, yeah. I guess I’m not the easiest person to live with.” Curt stammered out.

“Understatement of the fucking century, Mega, I’m tired of you already.” Cynthia laughed. Curt turned to go, assuming that was his cue. “Did I say you could leave? Take one more step without permission and I’ll get Susan to cut your nipples off. Sit down.” 

Curt sat.

“I’ll send this along to the Brits, and then, assuming they don’t come to their senses, you’ll be on a plane by Monday. I want you packed and ready to go by tonight-”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Shut up! By _tonight_ , and I _will_ be checking. You’re going to be on your best fucking behaviour while you’re over there. If I hear one bad word about you from any-fucking-one on that entire island, I will kill them, and then I will kill you, much, much slower. Got it?” Cynthia asked.

“Got it.” Curt answered quickly.

“Good.” She took a long pull of her cigarette. Curt waited. 

She exhaled. Curt waited.

“Why the fuck are you still here, Mega? Isn’t there a job I’m overpaying you to do?” She snapped.

Curt left.

If he’d thought his morning had been bad, it was nothing compared to his mood that afternoon. He typed up half of his latest report, before realizing he’d typed the same sentence three times in a row. He decided to call it a day, heading out half an hour early with a preemptive wince for the rant he would get tomorrow. 

Curt got in his car and drove home, deciding to get a head start on packing. He didn’t really think Cynthia would check, but...she had her ways. Weapons and other equipment first, that was easy enough. Clothes after that. Curt packed just about every outfit he had, leaving a few out for the week. Toiletries he’d pack the night before, which left him with personal stuff. Curt always tried to bring at least one reminder of home on long missions like these. Picking what exactly to bring was always the hard part. It needed to be sentimental enough to be comforting, but at the same time, Curt couldn’t let anyone get their hands on something _really_ personal. He grabbed a few books for the flight, and considered a postcard from his mom, before realizing it had her address on it and setting it back down. There was a picture behind it, snuck on a polaroid when Owen wasn’t paying attention. The two of them, Owen’s arm slung casually across Curt’s shoulders as Curt shot a smug grin into the camera. 

Curt felt his stomach turn. Overreacting, he reminded himself. It didn’t do anything. Curt set the picture down on its face, and grabbed a carved wooden lion his mom had given him the last time he went to visit, tossing it in his suitcase with the rest before settling on his bed to mope. 

Just then, the phone rang from the living room. Curt sighed, the universe really had shit timing today, didn’t it? He considered not answering at all; his bed was comfortable and he wasn’t in the mood for a conversation. He waited for the ringing to stop, wondering if whoever it was would call again. They did. No point in ignoring the phone, then. Not like it would leave him to sulk in peace.

“Hello?” 

“Curt?” Asked the voice on the other end.

“Owen.” He sighed, “What is it?”

“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” Owen responded, not actually answering Curt’s question.

“Yeah, I am a bit, but it’s my fault, babe, don’t worry about it.” Curt reassured him, “I know how much your privacy means to you. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

“Well no,” Owen admitted, “That was a bit rude of you. I’ve been thinking, though, and you’re right. I do want you near me. I miss the feeling of you in my arms every night before I fall asleep, I don’t want to turn down this chance to have that.”

“I’m sensing a “but” here.” Curt prompted.

“But,” Owen sighed, “You’re also right that I’m not used to letting people...close. In a business like ours, home is just about the only place you’re not always being watched. It’s the only place you don’t need to play the part. I’ve been looking out for myself for a long time, love. I don’t know how to let you in that far.”

“Owen, I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t been playing a part with me for a while now. Unless MI6 has some much more open minds than the CIA, that is.” Curt reminded him.

“No you’re right about that.” Owen laughed, “That’s all been real. But it’s different when it’s home. Do you know what I mean?”

Curt looked around at his own apartment, cluttered with trinkets that would never see the outside world for fear of letting too much slip, heavy blinds and security three layers deep on the door. 

“Yeah.” He answered finally. “I get it.”

“I want to try. I really do. I think you should still have a place of your own, so that neither of us feels trapped, but I want you here, love, as close as I can get you.”

“So we’ll try it then?” Curt asked, feeling his heart flutter in his chest as he waited.

“We can try.” Owen confirmed. “I’d like that. It’s rather late here, so I think I’ll get some rest, but I’ll talk to you again soon?”

“For sure, babe. G’night.” 

“Good night, dear.”

Curt grinned against the phone, waiting until he heard the click on the other end to set it down. He got up to make himself dinner, and if he was grinning like an idiot, well, that was between him and any bugs Cynthia had left in his room.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one is up! This is my first multichapter fic, I'm excited! Let me know what you thought so far in the comments? Also, follow me on tumblr @theguywhodidntlikeblogs


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